Supernova
by haveyoumetmissjones
Summary: When a star dies, it's called a Nova. When a star goes out with a bang it's called a Supernova. New York is taking a toll on Rachel Berry. Can Jesse St James stop the implosion before it's too late?
1. And I feel like taking off

Rachel Berry had always loved winter in New York. She loved the way the wind tossed her hair, the way the snowflakes kissed her cheeks. She loved how even though the sky was pitch black at five in the evening, the streets glowed with the cities dazzling lights. She adored the tree at the Rockefeller Centre, she could stand in front of it for hours. Watching parents rush past with heaving bags from FAO Schwarz, seeing children wrapped in coats and mittens begging for the latest toys, gliding across the ice at Central Park – she treasured it all. Meals with her fathers' followed by a Broadway production – yes, Rachel Berry loved winter in New York.

She loved it when she went back in the evenings to a cosy hotel room. Not when she returned to her tiny apartment that she couldn't afford to heat. She didn't love it that wearing four sweaters had become the norm. She didn't love that she hated going to theatres now because they had become synonymous with the word 'no'. She certainly didn't love that whilst she was a shining star in Lima, Ohio, she was just another table-waiting musical theatre major in New York City.

Drawing her red coat around her tiny frame, Rachel lowered her head against the icy chill as she slowly made her way out of the Gershwin Theatre. Sure it was just a chorus part. As much as people claim that there are no small parts, this one was a tiny part. But it was a part in _Wicked._ She was born to be Elphaba. She would have been able to prove herself, she'd work her way up to the top. But she hadn't been given the chance. Once again a resounding 'no' rang in her ears. There was always some silly reason – she was too short, she just wasn't right, she was too inexperienced. But all Rachel could hear was 'you aren't good enough'. She would never good enough. At least in Lima, in Glee, she was the best. Here, she just wasn't sure anymore.

She shivered. New York really was _cold._ She'd never realised before. When she got chilly her dad would rush her into a waiting cab. There was no way that she could afford one now though. She picked up the pace, moving like a true New Yorker – no politeness, no care for others. Selfish. The city was selfish, and this was something she was beginning to realised. It chewed people up and spat them out. It was how it worked – it's what kept the city alive. At least that was how her increasingly cynical little mind saw it. Rachel was being chewed up. She was just waiting to be spat out.

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**Short and Sweet I hope? This is just a prologue, the meat of the story is on its way, and there will be plenty of St Berry goodness for us all!**

**Let me know what you think please :)**


	2. And I can't fake any more

The light was flashing on the answer machine when she stepped into her drafty apartment. Pressing the button, she went to hang up her coat as the messages played.

"Hello Darling! Hope everything's faaaabulous! We live in the same city and I haven't seen you for two weeks. That's ridiculous. Anyway, Blaine is visiting me this weekend and although I'm sure we'll be busy doing...well each other, I thought that perhaps we could go to dinner and maybe catch a show? I know he'd love to see you, and so would I! I get worried about you, you don't have enough fun. But whatever, if I haven't changed you by now I doubt I ever will! But give me a call when you get a chance – I'm super excited! Love you gorgeous!" Rachel smiled as the machine beeped. Kurt was the only person in this city who kept her sane. When she began to lose her mind over auditions and work, he always knew how to calm her down. New York was perfect for him. He was comfortable with his sexuality, he had friends who were also gay, and his relationship with Blaine was blossoming. Plus with the added bonuses of Parsons design school and Barneys, Kurt was absolutely in his element. The machine beeped again.

"Hey Rach, it's Ellen. I know it's ridiculously short notice, but Lucy can't work tonight – something to do with her crack dealer? I dunno. Anyways, it's ten till late shift; we've got a huge party of some show or another. Maybe you could make contacts? But if you can make it can you call in by 7 so I know? Thank you!" Sighing, she picked up the phone to call the restaurant. She liked her job and she was good at it, but Rachel Berry was meant to be an actress. She was not meant to wait on other Actress's. The Plate was one of _the _New York eateries to be seen at. She took the job because she needed the money, but she also thought it was a way to make connections. It was in the Broadway district, and was known as a place for the bigwigs of Broadway. Some misguided notion had led her to believe that she'd be spotted whilst at work and immediately be given the lead in the newest and most anticipated production. She was, of course, wrong, but she was short on cash, and she was given free food. Always a plus for a student. Checking the clock, she noted that she had an hour to get ready for work. Her uniform was hung on the back of a chair that served as a drying rack, but the cold in the flat meant that it hadn't dried as well as she had hoped it would. She couldn't afford to buy and run a tumble dryer, so it looked like she'd have to do her best with her hair dryer. She sat cross-legged on her bed and got to work, humming as she did so. Just over an hour later she found herself once again wrapped up against the Atlantic chill as she made her way to the restaurant.

As she stepped into the warm comfort of The Plate, Rachel was quickly accosted by her manager, Ellen.

"I'm so glad you could come in! We've got a party of sixteen in, and the booze is most certainly flowing and they are most definitely rowdy. I need all hands on deck." Ellen was already unwinding Rachel's scarf from around her neck as she spoke.

"Anyone big?" Although Ellen didn't want to be on Broadway, she had dreams of opening her own restaurant, as manager of one of the districts most popular eating places she seemed to have picked up Broadway knowledge by means of some kind of osmosis.

"'Fraid not. I think they were work-shopping some kind of new musical, and as far as I can tell they just got bumped up. I think we've got Director, Conductor, Writer and Stars. You want the table?" Rachel looked over at the party in the corner. They all looked happy – proud even. They were glamorous, and worlds away from her current student-waitress chic. Nodding at Ellen, she grabbed her PDA and went to take orders, putting on her usual waitress show face. The smile faltered, however, when she spotted the curly hair of the male lead. As he looked up, Jesse St James caught the eye of his young server and was shocked at how pale and drawn Rachel looked. He opened his mouth to speak, but she quickly cut him off and severed eye contact and began to take orders from the rest of the table.

For the rest of the night, Rachel was the perfect waitress. She made her customers smile and laugh, glasses never went empty, plates were cleared away with a perfect sense of efficiency. The one thing she didn't do, however, was make eye contact with Jesse. In fact she tried her best not to look at him at all. She seemed to have developed a habit of looking just over his left shoulder when forced to communicate with him. The groups' night began to draw to a close at around half past one. As they headed past Rachel out of the door, each member of the group bid her a polite (and slightly drunken) farewell. As she went to clear the table, she discovered the two $200 dollar bills left underneath the napkin in Jesse's place. She snatched the bills up and sprinted out of the door. She could see them rounding the corner up ahead and picked up the pace. She shouted his name and caught his attention. He waved his company off and turned to wait for her, his arms folded and a smirk set firmly upon his disgustingly good looking face.

"Couldn't resist me huh Rach?" She came to a halt in front of him, a spark glinting in her eyes. It seemed the prospect of a good sparring partner had awoken some of the old Berry in her.

"Shut up Jesse. I think I proved I could I could resist you when I left you with a good old case of the blue balls whenever we made out."

"Spunky. They way I like it. Although you seem a bit more...crass than I remembered. Did my leaving make you bitter in some way?"

"Not at all. Your leaving just enlightened me to the fact that it's possible to have a relationship with someone who loves you more than he loves himself."

"Talking about Hudson? Last I heard he was seeing Quinn Fabrey again. Sure he loved you?" This hit her like a punch in the stomach. Jesse noted that she seemed to flinch as his words hit their mark. "Truth hurts doesn't it. If you aren't enamoured with me then why did chase me down the street yelling my name like a 12 year old at a Justin Bieber concert?"

"To give you this back." She thrust the money into his hand. "I don't need you to mock me Jesse." He carefully lifted one eyebrow, with only a ghost of his previous smirk gracing his features.

"I wasn't mocking you Rache-"

"Well in that case, I don't need your pity money either."

"Really, you don't? Because your hair and your skin and your shoes say that you do. As does your current...career." The word slipped from his tongue, laced with sarcasm. He expected some sort of retort, but Rachel simply threw him a contemptuous glare and walked away from him. He waited for her to turn around, to get the last word in somehow, but she just kept walking. He began to follow. "Rachel! Don't be stupid, turn around!" At this point she spun on her heel and faced him, anger seething out of her.

"Don't Jesse. Just don't. You think I want to do this? You think when I spent hours in ballet or vocal lessons that it was just building up to this moment? You think that I'm not painfully aware every time I step out of the door that I'm going to work in a restaurant and not stepping onto stage? It's bad enough without people rubbing my face in it. New York is bad enough without you. Just leave me the hell alone." Her voice cracked on the final word, and she ducked back into the safety of her workplace. Jesse stood on the pavement outside, shocked at both the outburst and the tears he'd elicited from Rachel Berry.

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Guys! Loads of you have added me to alerts and favourites - spare some review love please! I know Rachel might seem a bit melodramatic, but there's a lot more coming to explain why she is the way she is.


	3. Oh, they got it all

"I think you should have taken the money. God knows you could do with a new haircut."

"Right, what is this about my hair? He mentioned it as well. And whether or not I need it isn't the point Kurt."

"What is the point?"

"The point is that I am a self-sufficient and independent woman and I do not need his dirty earned money." Rachel spat the words out like venom.

"You are aware that he's the next big thing right? He was on the front cover of 'The Stage' last week. He probably earned that money. Legally." Blaine, ever the voice of reason, tried calming Rachel down, but it was to no avail.

"No. You did not meet Jesse. He was wily and evil and vicious and conniving. And Gorgeous..." Kurt coughed delicately and knocked Rachel out of her reverie. "He is gorgeous! I will give him that Kudos. He probably slept with someone to get the job in any case." Rachel was spending her Friday night in Kurt's apartment with quite a few bottles of wine. It was 3 in the morning, and after a meal and catching a show (paid for by her two gay best friends who wouldn't take no for an answer) the trio had headed back for more gossip and alcohol. It seemed that the intoxication had loosened Rachel's lips and she was happily abusing Jesse St James, much to amusement of the boys. "I just don't get it. Hasn't he done enough? Wasn't smashing eggs on my heart and stomping on my face enough?" She paused for a second to consider her mistake and all three cracked up laughing as Kurt swooped in the remove the glass of red from her hand.

"Sweetie, he was drunk. And he's an ass. I don't think its some kind of personal vendetta; I think he's just a dick who likes messing with people for fun! I would know. Do you not remember the Sandy debacle?" Rachel snorted at Kurt's response.

"How could I forget? Finn got turned on every time he heard 'You're the one that I want' for months. And scared. He got scared." They all laughed. "Seriously though guys. Hasn't enough happened to me this year? "Blaine shifted in his seat before broaching a topic they all knew was sensitive to her.

"Speaking of, Rach, are still sure you don't want to come back with us to Ohio for the holidays?"He examined the tiny girl in front of him. He noted how her eyes narrowed, her arm s folded and how she visibly stiffened. When Kurt next spoke, it was with a gentle tone, as if he was afraid he could shatter Rachel with his words.

"You could stay with my family you know...you don't have to go back...there. Carol would love having a 'real' girl to talk to, and you know Finn's been missing you." She glared at the boy.

"No."

"Rach..."

"No! There is no reason for me to go back there Kurt and you well know that. I don't see why we have to bring it up all the time. I'm not going and that's the end of it." A scowl was set firmly in place on her pretty face.

"But what about the house? It's worth a hell of a lot of money. You could live in this building with me and still have quite a lot left over. God knows all your other money is going on tuition." Rachel stood up and stumbled, attempting to collect up her belongings.

"I am not selling it. I can't sell it and you know I can't. I said I didn't want to talk about it and I meant that I absolutely do not want to talk about it. Now it really is time for me to be leaving as I have work tomorrow. Thank you for a lovely evening gentlemen, and I apologise that it is ending on a sour note. I will get your money to you by the end of next week, that's when I get paid. Good bye." With this she was gone. Kurt began to rise from his place on the loveseat next to Blaine, but his boyfriend placed a hand on his chest.

"Don't. You know she's always better after a good old fashioned storm out. Just leave her be tonight, she'll come around eventually." Kurt sighed.

"I hope so."

* * *

When Rachel got to the restaurant the next day it was quite fair to say that felt, and looked, like something that had been regurgitated. Possibly by her. That morning. In her bathroom. She had drunk A LOT the previous night. Ellen smirked at her as she walking in at eight in morning. Her first action was to rest her head on the bar and groan loudly. Ellen leaned in close to Rachel, placing her mouth by the girls ear.

"Heavy night Berry?" She spoke in a normal volume but to Rachel's fragile head it may well have been bellowed. She laughed as her co worker jumped and threw her the dirtiest look she could possible muster in her delicate state.

"I hate wine." Rachel let out a comical fake sob as her manager clapped her on the back.

"Rachel, my sympathy time is done, ok? We've got inventory this morning, 6 tables already booked for lunch, and two seatings booked for this evening. Busy day babe. Move that caboose." Rachel grumbled as she headed to her locker in the staff area. Moments later she was back brandishing a small white envelope.

"Where did this come from?" Ellen glanced at Rachel.

"This guy came in to find you last night, but obviously you weren't here. Said he wanted to make sure this got to you, and to tell you he was sorry and he was drunk. Rach, he was gorgeous. And he had the whole brooding and smouldering thing going for him. What's in it?"

"Nothing important. If he comes in again, I don't want to see him. I want nothing to do with him. Ok?" Rachel looked so enraged that Ellen became concerned.

"What's going on? Everything ok?"

"It's fine." Rachel shook her head, although for an actress she wasn't doing a marvellous job of convincing her co worker that she was telling the truth. "Just someone I knew from Ohio and I don't really care to get reacquainted with him. That's all. Now what do you want me to do this morning?" With that, Hurricane Rachel set to work, leaving the envelope with five $100 dollar bills and an address scribbled on some torn paper in her locker.

* * *

Rachel finished work that evening at ten and headed straight to the address in the envelope. She pressed the buzzer of the rather swish looking apartment building, but she received no answer. No other residents appeared to let her in, so, seething, she settled herself down on the cold step and began her long wait.

An hour later a taxi pulled up outside the building. The door opened and out stepped a long and tanned leg, followed by an equally long and tanned woman who, considering it was December, had rather a lot of flesh on display. She giggled, and turned to wait for her companion who was paying their fare. Jesse St James stepped out of the cab and placed his hand on the small of his 'friend' and began steering her towards the doorway. He stopped, however, when he caught sight of the girl huddled up on his doorstep, her lips slightly blue.

"Jesus Rachel, how long have you been here for?" She stood up before him, trying desperately to stop her small frame from shivering and giving away how cold she really was. Jesse turned to long'n'tanned and looked at her apologetically. "Flav, I'm sorry. Maybe we could continue this another time?" The blonde pulled an irritated expression and looked at Rachel with disdain.

"No, don't go. I'm leaving. I just wanted to return this." She threw the envelope at Jesse. "You are not part of my life anymore. I didn't invite you to be part of my life, and I don't want you to be part of my life. I was fine before you came back, and I certainly do not need this pity money." Long'n'tanned was watching the exchange like one would watch a tennis match, head whipping back and forth between the players.

"Rachel, I was drunk, and I was pissed that you were pissed when I was trying to be nice. I'm sorry I said that ok? It isn't pity, I just heard what had happened from Shelby and I wanted to help." He was shocked by the ferocity of his former girlfriend's response.

"I didn't ask for help! And if I was going to, do you really think I would ask you?" Jesse tried to interrupt but she cut him off. "I need to get used to being by myself, because I am by myself. So just...just...just fuck off!" There was silence after she swore, which was swiftly ended by the sound of Jesse sniggering. "It's not funny!" His chuckle turned into a full on belly laugh.

"I'm sorry, but you can't swear. It's just not right. And fine, do what you want. I wash my hands of you." With all the theatricality of a thespian Jesse rubbed his hands together dramatically in order to simulate his point.

"Fine. Good. Have a pleasant evening." With that, Rachel was trotting down the street, head held high. Jesse watched her until she turned the corner, after which he turned to his companion, took her by the hand and led her into her building. Little did he know that Rachel, just out of view, was sat on the pavement with her head in her hands, tears streaming down her face.

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Hello! Hope you liked it. I'm already starting the next chapter, but there may be a bit of a longer wait this time - I want to make them a bit longer and meatier.

As always, I wont beg for reviews, but it would be delightful if you would let me know what you think! Thank you :)


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